Mello Hates Chocolate
by Mello's Favorite Reject
Summary: Chocolate doesn't fix anything. It can't make you happy. Mihael knows this, and yet, he consumes it… just as pain, anger, and disappointment consume his soul. –OneShot DEADICATED TO !


**Title:** Mello Hates Chocolate

**Summary:** Chocolate doesn't fix anything. It can't make you happy. Mihael knows this, and yet, he consumes it… just as pain, anger, and disappointment consume his soul. –OneShot DEADICATED TO ?!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own DN. At best, I can stake claim to my clever wordplay put in this.

**Author's Note:** I'm surprising a friend! This fic is deadicated to CheshireEffect! Hope she likes it!

**Author's Note II: **Am I the only one who thinks Fanfiction should add _Irony_ and _Smutt_ and _Crack _as genres? Just asking.

…

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Chocolate was a big deal because it was the most amazing food on earth in the eyes of children. The one flaw with it was how unhealthy it was, despite the calcium in it. It is the poor nutrition that made it scarce in the Keehl household… except on special occasions.

And the youngest Keehl loved the taste of chocolate, the syrupy texture when it would melt in his mouth –how utterly perfect! And whether it was in the form of a bar, a cake, or even a kiss or bunny, it was the most delicious sustenance ever created.

(A particular blonde even once asked a priest: "God created the world in six days, and on the seventh day, he rested, right? Are you sure he didn't spend that last day making chocolate?" Of course, he got scolded for his idiocy and learned to keep such silly thoughts to himself after that.)

Bottom line is… a young member of the Keehl family loved the cocoa-infested treat. The only problem was that he wasn't allowed to have it very often.

But… when his father came home late one evening, he walked in and handed his wife a rose and his son a chocolate bar; he offered them both a sad smile and said: "Gotta go. I've been meaning to leave for a while. I've got this promotion… and I'm being transferred to the US. –And I don't want any excess baggage when I go to America."

That night, a woman cried alone in her room, clutching the wilted rose and accepting the metaphorical thorns that came with it… And two rooms away, her son ate his chocolate bar and mourned on the irony of how bitter the chocolate tasted when he normally thought it to be so sweet.

And when a few weeks passed and the woman and child were on the street, homeless with nothing but some old clothes, a single rosary, and faithful prayer, it seemed as if nothing could get any worse.

But things always get worse.

The two were cold and hungry, and Jack Frost was eating them alive, chilling them to the bone. And when a strange older man approached with a fistful of dirty dollars and whispered cruel words to the woman, the son just sat there, trying not to imagine what his mother seemed to nod and agree with before removing the rosary and dragging the man towards a dark alley.

But… the noises spared no secrets, and the blonde boy knew too much to pretend that his mother wasn't having sex with a stranger.

After the noises all died down and his mother came back, the boy tried not to look disgusted by the man's flushed face as he slapped his mother's re-clothed ass and placed a wad of cash in her hands.

Soon after, the woman took her son to the local store and bought him chocolate, offering a silent promise to make things better.

"Mihael," she told him, "I'll fix everything, so don't you worry."

And, to that, he replied: "You can't fix things with candy. Chocolate didn't bring my dog back to life. Chocolate didn't stop dad from leaving. Chocolate didn't stop us from losing our home, and it sure as fuck isn't stopping you from being a whore!" By the end of this rant, Mihael was forcing back tears, but he let them fall when his mother's hand forcefully collided with his cheek. The boy's voice lowered as he added, finally, "and… chocolate won't fix this shit either, mom."

But later that night, the woman was escorting her son to a small storage shed that they planned to use for shelter, the snow came down heavily… and a car slid; it's destination was forced in their direction by nature's calm sense of rage.

And the boy's mother died upon impact. Mihael was spared, and the only words he had for his mother's corpse as he took the rosary from her freezing body was… "Where's the chocolate for this, mom? Chocolate's not a Band-Aid; it won't heal anything." He slipped that rosary around his own neck and pulled the money from his mom's coat pocket. No tears left him, but he felt completely empty and hollow. And though he hadn't that bar of chocolate, he could almost taste the bitter cocoa as he walked away, intending to face the big bad world on his own.

A full year on his own had made him cold; the experiences he endured had hardened him and taught him to be cruel and distrustful. He grew up, in a way.

Though he remained physically pure, his soul would be devoid of innocence; he was tainted. His words and thoughts were vulgar, and that crucifix was now worn for spite and mockery than religion.

But there came a day when he was approached by two men; one was an elder with a warm smile decorated with wrinkles, and the other was an awkward young adult with untamable hair and black eyes to go with his hunched stature.

Those two men offered Mihael a new place to stay, and that seemed kind, but… the blonde had learned the hard way that everything comes with a price. He was offered a piece of candy -chocolate- and told that he would be starting a new life… with a new name –a fresh slate on which to write the dreams he'd been denied.

That's what he was told, but the reality was… that they were killing Mihael and birthing a boy named Mello from the remains. They didn't want to help the blonde to be a happy child; they wanted to morph him into something of their choosing.

They wanted him to be the face of Justic.

And… as he brought yet another bar of chocolate to his mouth, he decided that he could do it. He could be L.

But then an albino came into the picture –an albino named Near.

Mello had been first in line to succeed the detective known as L, but with the appearance of the damn sheep-like boy, he dropped to second place.

And more chocolate was there to aide him. But, as he knew all too well, it didn't solve a damn thing, really.

It was a vice, and nothing more.

One day, L died. And the only feeling Mello could register was anger, which soon became replaced by hunger.

He grabbed up his stash of chocolate and left.

He was mildly surprised when he'd run away, found himself on a plane, and heard an unfamiliar voice call out to his alias: "Mello, want some chocolate? I can't eat it; it gives me gas."

The blonde snatched the chocolate and peeled the wrapper before even looking at who'd given it to him. "Thanks," he grumbled.

"I'm Matt. Number Three from Wammy's. Remember? I sat behind you in Criminology."

"No, honestly, I don't know or care who the fuck you are."

"Oh? Well, too bad. Cuz, I'm gonna stick around for a while."

And that annoying redhead did stick around. Long after the flight to the US, the two remained together. They plotted and schemed for survival until their twisted adventures landed them each with prison records, body counts, and an affiliation with a few high-ranking mafia members.

But the redhead was happy to do whatever he had to… as long as he stayed by Mello's side and was able to keep a handful of games for his handheld.

And though the blonde was never happy, ever, he did appreciate the new wardrobe, the look of fear in the eyes of everyone who met his gaze, and the nearly endless supply of chocolate.

Still, over the course of time, the two boys began to notice things. Hormonal things. Urges and desires and attractions.

At first, it was just jerking off separately. The mutual masturbation. The hand jobs and blow jobs. And, finally, slow, painful, awkward, up the butt (should have used lube!) sex that left neither of them truly satisfied.

After their first few times together, it got better; they learned what one another liked, and it almost seemed worthy of doing to pass time.

In an attempt to keep things uncomplicated, they decided to become an item.

They didn't date. Didn't go out. But they did use vulgar terms of endearment and they did fuck… a lot. Sex was near constant, and sometimes it seemed as if all that existed was flesh and pleasure and cum.

There was no heart-wrenching past. There was no hopeless future.

Just sex.

And that made them… (not exactly happy, but) content enough to deal with the world around them.

But one day, the sex just stopped. For seemingly no reason. The redhead began to reject any and all advances.

Matt, who almost never left Mello's side, began to go out for long periods of time, sometimes staying out all night and trying to sneak in early the next morning. And with his every return, he would slip a bar of chocolate in with the rest of Mello's stash and then offer a chaste kiss and a fake smile.

Matt became animated. Fake.

And Mello became suspicious, especially when he noticed the lipstick stains and hickeys. But he never said anything. In time, he noticed the correlation between the growth of his chocolate stash and the amount of time Matt spent out, and he grew angry, bitter.

And, as he sat, alone, eating what had to be his eigth chocolate bar that morning, his mind raced, and he thought of how much he hated his addiction to chocolate.

He hated how he only ever received it when something was wrong. He hated how it was never able to comfort him. And he hated how it began to get harder to pull those leather pants up over his widening thighs.

It was when he could barely pull those pants up that he had to drop the chocolate bar and think of how to fix the problem.

Unfortunately, he came to a conclusion too quickly, not fully thinking it over before deciding to act upon it.

He grabbed one last bar of chocolate and a pre-loaded MK 23, sat on the sofa, and waited.

He waited for hours, listening for the telltale sounds of the door creaking open to reveal a slinking redhead that would reek of cheap perfume and sex.

And he heard that noise –the door opening.

And he heard a second noise –Matt's boots tapping against the floor as he entered.

And he heard yet another noise –the sound of a bullet exploding from the chamber.

He'd pulled the trigger and, in doing so, he'd stopped Matt from cheating. That was one less distress in his life. And because of that, he smiled, snapped the chocolate bar in two, tossing one half towards the fresh corpse and keeping the other half for himself. He continued to smile as he peeled back the foil and snapped a piece off; he let it melt in his mouth before chuckling humorlessly. "Cheers to you, Matt. Enjoy your chocolate. How does it taste? Bitter? Yeah, I bet it does."

He took another bite. And another.

And for the first time in years, an overwhelming sadness tore through his core and tugged at his heartstrings.

"Yeah… bitter," he whispered, gaze wandering back to the redhead who had cheated for so long… But, at least he'd always come back.

Mello finished his chocolate bar, and all he could focus on was how wrong everything suddenly felt. Killing was easy, but killing Matt… made him feel disgusting.

And as he grabbed a blanket and began to wrap that body that once fit so nicely against his own, he could taste the bitter chocolate lingering on his taste buds.

And all he could think was: "_I hate chocolate_."

…

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**/Yep, Mello hates chocolate. REVIEW!/**


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